Posts Tagged ‘Kings Canyon’

There will be several more episodes to Kings Canyon Camping, but at the moment, there will be a halt in the story telling. I fly out in the morning to my second homeland, Canada. Yes, I’m a dual citizen, not because I married a Canadian, but because my mother is Canadian. Voila! Dual rights, baby.

As much as I would love to sit here and type out the camping shower fiasco, or the back-of-the-bus barfing game, or the roadkill bingo, I am in the midst of packing and planning. If I have had the pleasure of speaking when you are in the audience, you know, as well as I do, that a good time was had by all. To say that I love speaking is an understatement… it is what gives me purpose and life and liberty and justice for all. Amen.

However, (enter somewhat sinister music playing in the background) I have been challenged lately by our good Lord about many excesses and life’s circumstances in the cushy ol’ US of A. It has broken down some barriers in my heart. I used to half-proudly say that mercy and grace don’t show up on my “gifts” list. But I have had glimpses of both in the last two years. Orphans break my heart. Hence, our quest to open our home to one darling Colombian. Widows and widowers are starting to find a soft place in my heart. Homeless people… displaced people… people simply having a rough go of it… and refugees.. and children who live on the streets. There are so many needs surrounding us that it could be quite overwhelming. But God gives us all the same amount of time…. 24 hours a day… to reach out to those in our circle of influence… and those who live just outside our comfortable circle.

So, all that to say, my speaking this coming Monday night in the Great White North will not be the fat-n-happy laughing times of old. It has me a bit nervous. I’m used to being liked. This may go down … um… not pretty. Pray for the women’s hearts to be opened to God’s will for their lives. And pray, please, that I will say exactly what I’m supposed to say to bring awareness to some cushy lives, to make the cozy nests prickly, to awaken some dreams of good will, to stir some hearts toward the hurting, and quite possibly to open a mother’s eyes to her child who is on the other side of the world waiting for a mama.

It’s been at least five years since I’ve been in Zellers, The Real Canadian Superstore, Tim Horton’s or a Canadian Tire. :o) Should be a rockin’ good time, eh!

After the rain puddled under the boy’s tent, they were invited into the tent trailer with all seven of us girls. Two came; one decided the van was a better option. Fine. Freeze your buns off, Superman. And most cyclists sleep with their bikes, right?

As the sun slid behind the trees and the darkness of night emerged, Austin was making his car cave cozy. The back hatch of the van was open as he was arranging and reorganizing camping paraphernalia. After walking over to the fire area for a while he went back to the van and saw something move on his sleeping bag. Immediately assuming it was a prank by his brother, he said, “Keeve, what are you doing?” Then the raccoon jumped out and my strong and brave 16-year-old man child screamed like a girl. Well, a girl with a low voice. The varmint left…. temporarily. Later I noticed the boy’s tent was still unzipped and went to remedy the situation. There were muddy raccoon paw prints all over the sleeping mats. Great.

Thankful for my athletic ability and throwing accuracy, I could generally make contact with a pineapple size pine cone and a raccoon, but they still came back! GAH! And after the first two nights, I was no longer an animal activist. I had turned into an NRA fanatic…. without the gun. We piled ammo next to our camping chairs. The question became: How many times does a coon need to be hit in the head with a pine cone before he doesn’t return? The answer: we never found out. More than six or seven.

Nora sat in her chair by the fire pleading, “Please don’t throw things at the raccoons. I want to see one. I have never seen a whole raccoon. Please don’t throw pine cones, Mom. I want to see the body. Stop scaring them away. I have NEVER seen a whole raccoon. Just wait till I see it ALL, then throw stuff.” Good grief, child. That is what the zoo is for!

Night #3 it was me against the critters. The youngest six children were bedded down. The other mama and two eldest were gone washing dishes. I piled my cones next to me and sat by the fire waiting. It took about three minutes before I turned and saw a large striped bandit hauling away a backpack that had been left out. I bombarded him and screamed bloody murder. Six giggling children could be heard in the trailer. Sheesh. He dropped the back pack, but made off with a plastic bag of something. I grabbed the pack and threw it in the trailer. Meanwhile, I saw another masked face making his way to the bear box… I threw large sticks and pine cones as he retreated from my screams. More laughing… but no help in defending the fortress.

Then horror of horrors, the propane lantern ran out of fuel and darkness enveloped me….. I had no night vision and groped around for a flashlight while hearing the approaching critters. The headlines in the Kings Canyon Newsletter the next morning could have very likely read: “Crazed camping woman goes ballistic and keeps entire camp group awake after quiet hours.” I didn’t care. At all. I found a lame flashlight, the firestarter and was changing the propane tank at the picnic table when my nemesis climbed right up on the other bench and looked across the table at me. FOUR FEET FROM MY FACE! Three days later my throat is still sore from the ear piercing, guttural yell, “GIT OUTTA HEEEEERRRRREEE!” It must have been quite terrifying because he never came back. Good.

At that point, my son returned to find knocked over chairs, pine cones and large sticks scattered around the camp, a propane tank on the ground and his hyperventilating mother trying to light the lantern. Aerobic workout for the day… check!

Raccoons: 1 bag of sunflower seeds.

Me: 1 terrifying memory that will likely pop up in nightmares for years to come.

GENERAL GRANT HIKE. Day #3 brought sunny skies and temperatures in the 40s! Whooo HOoooooOOOOooo!

During our stay at Kings Canyon there was a prescribed burn going on so the mornings and evenings were quite smokey…. which made for great sun ray pictures!

We took advantage of the clear weather and did the hike to the General Grant Tree which was a 1/2 mile from our campground. This was our first glimpse of one of the BIG trees. General Grant is the third largest tree in the world. It started growing before the Egyptians built the pyramids. Yes, it’s true. Along the trail there were several fallen trees expanding our minds as to the enormity of these specimens. In the middle of the trail the 7-year-old girl that was with us randomly announces to no one in particular, “This is a great place to shuffle” and proceeds to do the shuffle right there on the pine straw. Priceless.

No, there will be no photo essay of General Grant…. my camera batteries died on this hike. Bummer, dude. But we did sit on the hill above Gen. Grant and broke out our nature journals and drew the immense fire scar on the tree’s back side. While we sat there drawing, coloring and munching on beef jerky, groups of tourists came by from France. We spoke with a few of them, but their English was about as good as our French. About 90% of the people we met during our week stay were from France. We still don’t know why….

Deer were plentiful in our campground and all around the parks. These timid animals were not afraid of people or cars. Sad. Our girls were playing on the jumbo fallen log in the meadow behind our camp when a group of four deer came near. The girls froze and whispered to each other as they watched the gentle animals graze. Eventually one of the teenage boys yelled and the deer took off. Nora had never seen deer run before. She came scooting over to the camp and proclaimed, “Mom, they don’t run. They bounce!” So cute!

THE BLUSTERY DAY. As the snow continued to fall, we realized our plans for the day had slowly drifted away, much like the snowflakes we were witnessing making their listless trek to the white ground below. National Park solution #1: Visitor Center! Yeehaw! A roof, heated rooms, a movie, warm bathrooms with hot running water, etc. etc. Off we went. We took in a 20 minute movie about Kings Canyon with the three teenage boys reading the last word of every subtitle. Did my homeschooling-mama-heart good. I taught those youngsters to read when they were wild, little, dirty whippersnappers.

The ten of us wandered the displays, felt the sharp blades of the 20 foot saw that was once used on the mammoth Sequoia trees, looked into bird nests, examined various sized pine cones and felt the bark of the enormous trees. Much to our surprise, there was a beautiful educational room at the back of the center that we inhabited for several hours. Our art boxes were brought in from the cars and we homeschooled in our socks in the shadows of three enormous paintings of the life zones we had studied. Perfect!

Each of the wall murals was abounding in animals and plants of each zone. The kids had made diorama boxes of these exact scenarios and they recollected many of the flora and fauna.

Postcards were purchased, written, stamped and sent home to various recipients whose addresses we knew by memory. We ate granola bars and cheese sticks. Of course, we also did the booklets for the Jr. Ranger Program! What would a trip to a national park be without doing a word find puzzle??? We learned about backpacking canisters for bear-safe food storage… see the black can?

As the natives got restless, we had wheelbarrow races and then we played charades in teams with National Park dice. No one will ever forget Austin’s portrayal of a space ship complete with noises… because we are all familiar with the sounds made by alien flying saucers.

STUMP MEADOW. After lunch, the snow had turned to rain and then to mist, allowing us to venture out and see a bit of the park. Our first stop was Stump Meadow where hundreds of the BIG trees were harvested in the 1850s. You can’t quite grasp the vastness of this area from a picture, but I offer my feeble attempt.

All eight of our children fit into the fire scar of this big stump with room to spare. We have been reading My Side of the Mountain and the sequel The Far Side of the Mountain about Sam Gribley who, at 15, moved from NYC to the hills and made a giant Hemlock his home. Every time we saw a new BIGGER stump or hollowed-out tree the kids would claim, “This one will be my home!”

One last photo for you which I titled “The Little Colombian and the Giant Tree.” Yes, Nora is standing there at the bottom, but I couldn’t back up far enough to get the top of the tree in the picture. They are BIG.

THE ARRIVAL. Driving the supposed 10 hours and 21 minutes from Phoenix, AZ to Kings Canyon National Park, CA was almost uneventful with the exception of the swaying tent trailer that required only 60 MPH, the unfindable Visalia Costco that was a Walmart (seems that Costco moved to a new building and didn’t tell Mapquest), and the Park Ranger who said the showers were closed for winter. He was mistaken much to my relief after the 13 hour trip with two crazy moms and eight kids.

We arrived at Azalea Campground with about 90 minutes of sunlight to spare. Every camper was in motion getting tents set up, wood hauled, food in bear boxes, fire built, trailer leveled, etc. THEN, being a mom, I went to the closest bathroom building that was just a hop, skip and jump from our campsite, only to find out that it was also closed for winter. GAH! Next time we will check bathrooms BEFORE we unpack and set up camp. So, much exercise was had ALL week hiking the hill to the open bathroom facility.

We tucked ourselves into chilly sleeping bags and beds, turned the propane heater to low in the trailer and snuggled in for a cozy night. My night time camping routine might seem needlessly silly to some, but it works for me. Wool socks with sweat pants tucked into them. Long sleeve t-shirt tucked into the sweat pants to halt drafty freezing breezes. Long sleeve flannel jammie shirt. Long sleeve red Mickey Mouse hooded sweatshirt with drawstring hood that is tied down to a small circle that only reveals my nose and mouth. And earplugs. And hand warmers…. I hold them in my hands until they are toasty, then I put the little bags of comfy warmth into my socks for the night. BAM! Arizona woman sleeps in a thin tent trailer at 6,500 feet in October in comfort.

THE FIRST MORNING. My initial recollection was that there was daylight instead of darkness unlike the other 42 times I awoke during the night. My nose told me that it was chilly out….. really chilly. Next, an early riser who had already departed from the tent trailer cheerily yelled, “It’s snowing!” Turning over and snuggling down deeper into my warm nest, I closed my eyes and groaned, “Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!” But it was true. Weather.com had predicted only a 40% chance of rain or light snow. They were 60% wrong.

One of the books that I read to my children in preparation for this trip was about Johnny and Teddy (John Muir and Theodore Roosevelt) titled The Camping Trip that Changed America. Mr. Muir took the President camping in Yosemite to raise his awareness of the vast and enormously beautiful landscape that needed protection and the National Parks were born. The two men awoke to a snow covered valley below them and Teddy Roosevelt proclaimed it the “best day of my life!” The President’s joy was his alone as I did not share his feelings upon seeing snow while camping in the Sierra Nevadas, but I was glad for the experience for my city-slicker kids. Every kid should camp in the snow ONCE! Simply to say they did…. and lived to tell the story.

Banana pancakes have never tasted quite as delectable as they did that cold cold inaugural morning of our week’s stay at Kings Canyon.

History will be made this weekend, commencing Sunday morning at 4:30 a.m., when the talented and prepared teacher of our homeschool (me) will embark on a journey of realhomeschooling. The kind of homeschooling I have always dreamed of in my thoughtful homeschooling mom head. Living, breathing homeschooling that doesn’t involve a home at all.

YES! It’s true. I found another crazy homeschool mama who has also envisioned outdoor homeschooling for her 11 years of teaching her kids at home. Thankfully we both have just enough brains now missing to undertake this task …. just the two of us…. with eight kids. Don’t gasp. At least 3 of those kids could probably survive in the wilderness unassisted.

And we’ve done bear training! We’re good. We all have safety kits in our backpacks including whistles, compasses, knives, waterproof matches, rain ponchos and little reflecting mirrors to signal the search helicopter if need be. As is my spend-thrift nature, I was not going to spend hard earned dollars on those items which could be salvaged from the current supply of junk in the house. Yes, my 16-year-old son’s mirror has fuzzy leopard fur on the back… and he’s okay with that. My 14-year-old son’s mirror is the lid of a make-up compact… and I think he may still be adjusting to that idea as I type.

As mentioned previously, we are studying national parks…. seven parks to be exact… the flora and fauna of each… including botany and geology. I am the art teacher… the other mama is the science nerd, thankfully!

So as the sun rises Sunday morning, please say a little prayer for us as we drive to Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks in California. It’s all good.

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What’s the Deal with the Jar?

Welcome to My Sister's Jar. The story behind the blog lies in the original post on Feb. 2, 2008. Type "giddy moments" into the search box to find it.

I'm a homeschool mom who loves to speak and write, encouraging moms to press-on in motherhood. Two of my books are available NOW! Laughing in the Midst of Mothering and Laughing in the Midst of Marriage. See them at www.LindaCrosby.com or www.cbd.com.

I have four children, one of whom is adopted from Colombia, so there are LOTS of adoption tidbits here.
~~~~~~ Linda Ann Crosby